


beat without a barrier

by lemonistas



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 19:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonistas/pseuds/lemonistas
Summary: Sometimes it's like this, quick and hot and unexpected.





	beat without a barrier

**Author's Note:**

> Importing old fic from LJ - originally posted 2/26/2010. If you got here by Googling yourself, hit the back button NOW.

They absolutely kill the show that night, all of them on like bright lights in a dark room, and Nick's not in the hotel room for three seconds before Joe is on him.

Sometimes it's like this, quick and hot and unexpected, when they've had a great show and neither of them can control what's going on in their heads or their hearts or their dicks, and Nick is seventeen and doesn't care about much else.

"You're fucking amazing," Joe breathes, pressing Nick against the closed door with the tips of his fingers, tiny points of hard, insistent pressure, and Nick slumps at an angle when Joe attacks his neck like it's a particularly difficult harmony.

Being with Joe is nothing like being with a girl. Joe is angular and sharp where girls are soft and rounded, and he kisses like he's used to leading. Nick quickly learned to give up control, because Joe's got the experience and the heart and the soul and at night, in the dark quiet places no one can ever see, Nick likes it when Joe takes charge and orders him around with his mouth and his hips.

Nick lets Joe muscle him against the door and feels the knob dig into his back, loves the pain and the pressure, loves knowing that after he's spent four hours running the show on stage, he can sink into Joe's embrace and let Joe take charge.

Joe tastes like stale sweat and orange Vitamin Water, and he chases the disparate tastes with his tongue, licking against the sides of Joe's mouth because he knows it drives him motherfucking crazy. He hears a low growl from Joe, feels the deep vibrato against his mouth, and backs off; Joe sets the pace in this room, not Nick. Nick is the one who counts off drumbeats and creates set lists; Joe is the one who tells Nick how to angle his mouth, the one who decides when it's time to press the heel of his hand against Nick's cock and trace the outline of his zipper with the promise that he'll undo it soon.

Joe muscles Nick around, pushes him back towards the bed, their legs knocking against each other as Joe shoves his hands beneath Nick's shirt. He gets it off just before pushing them down on the bed, generic hotel coverlet scratching at Nick's back as Joe bites his way down to Nick's neck.

"You're more amazing than me," Nick whispers, keeping his hands steady on Joe's hips despite wanting nothing more than to pull down and grind like the possessed. "I fucking love you."

Joe bites down harder in return, his teeth tracing the exposed tendons before roughly shoving Nick's shirt above his head. He pulls himself up to capture Nick's mouth anew, grabbing at Nick's chest and resting his hands on his pectoral muscles.

Nick never thought his chest was particularly sensitive; he knew girls were into his muscles, sure, but he didn't know how easily he got hard from simple touches until the day when Joe pulled himself into Nick's bunk and kissed him without preamble. They'd gotten each other's shirts off that day, and Nick had let out a strangled squeal when Joe's fingertips brushed his sensitive amber nipples as New Mexico flew by the plate-glass window.

"Nnnnnngh," Nick manages, and Joe bites gently at his collarbone before sliding, cobra-like, down his body. Joe has always marveled at Nick's smooth chest, devoid of hair, and something Nick's always thought of as childish became sexy as soon as Joe mentioned it, talked about loving how he could see Nick's heart beat without a barrier. Joe licks his way down, his hands hooked in Nick's pockets, and Nick goes unbelievably hard when Joe's mouth reaches the waistband of his tight jeans.

Joe tugs at the fabric with his teeth, and Nick tries desperately to keep his hips level on the bed as Joe pulls his zipper down using only his mouth. He thinks he might actually die, right here, with Joe's mouth ghosting over his cock through his boxers, and good luck explaining that to the coroner. Joe gives him a wicked grin as he lifts up and kisses Nick again, pulling his pants down with his hands like a normal person instead of a porn star, and Nick relaxes a fraction, glad to be on familiar territory.

"You know what I think about on stage sometimes?" Joe says casually, pulling away from Nick just enough to be heard. He's slipped out of his own clothes in the meantime, and they're pressed against each other from head to toe, clad only in the matching boxers they got at Christmas. "I see you playing the guitar, and you get really into it, right? And you throw your head back and all I can think about is how you look exactly like you do when my mouth's on your cock."

Nick gasps, arching up; he can't help it. "That's so dirty, dude," he says, catching Joe's lips with his and not caring that he's fucking with their roles in this instant. Joe is hot and willing above him and he doesn't seem to mind, lets Nick in like a familiar guest, sucks on his tongue leisurely which worming his hand into Nick's boxers and encircling his cock with sure, confident fingers.

"Dirty is what I'm going for here, Nicholas," Joe replies, pulling back. "I keep wondering if you get hard on stage behind that guitar. I can't look at you too long because of that, you know." he tugs harder at Nick's cock, settling into the comfortable rhythm they both know so well at this point. "I look at you grinding against that fucking guitar and I get so hard, so fast. And there's a line between teasing the girls and giving them a show, you know?" he passes his hand over the head of Nick's cock and Nick strains against his grip, pressing harder, dying for more.

Joe knows how to work him, knows Nick's cock as well as he knows his own by now. He knows that Nick likes it gentle at the beginning and rough at the end, and he'll come instantly if you slip a finger in between the soft, tight space between his cock and his balls. Joe doesn't want that, though, Nick knows; he'll drag this out as long as he can, teasing until Nick is gagging for it, begging Joe to just fucking do it already so he can come and they can go to bed before doing it all over again tomorrow.

"Yeah, I know," Nick pants, moving his arms until he's clutching at Joe's shoulders. He won't reach into Joe's boxers until he has permission, even though he can feel Joe's dick hard against the outside of his hip. "I don't really feel like explaining why you got a hard-on on stage to TMZ."

"So stop fucking your guitar like you're fucking my hand," Joe hisses, tightening his grip and twisting Nick like he's a bottle cap. Nick can't help the scream that escapes his throat; it's too much, all at once, and it's a miracle he doesn't come all over Joe's fist in that moment. Joe's hand is hot and slick with sweat, and Nick thinks about the times Joe decides to blow him, stolen moments in hotel rooms and trailers, Joe on his knees, picking the carpet fibers out of his jeans later.

"Let me touch you," Nick says, trying desperately not to sound like he's begging, and Joe's short nod is all it takes; he's fumbling with the waistband of Joe's boxers, taking his length in both hands, knocking Joe's hand off his own dick but he doesn't care. Joe is like silk over steel, rock-hard and ready, and Nick is overwhelmed with want and lust and something he thinks might be love, if it were possible to be in love with your older brother's cock.

It doesn't take long, from there; Joe's sliding down off the bed and dragging Nick's boxers along with him, and his mouth's on Nick's cock as soon as the cotton barrier is removed. Nick loves Joe's mouth, loves the feel of Joe's tongue tracing along the vein on the underside of his cock, loves seeing Joe's cheeks hollowed out as he sucks hard. Nick loves his brother, but it's these moments during which he thinks he might actually be IN love with him, in love with his mouth and his tongue and the enthusiasm with which he sucks Nick's cock like it's the last time, every time.

"Nnnnnrgh," Nick says, wishing he had the ability to articulate everything he's feeling, but Joe is tracing the head of his dick with his tongue and dipping the tip into the slit, and Nick can do nothing but thrust up and hang on for dear life as Joe sucks him like the world is ending.

"I - I - - fucking love you," Nick gasps, feeling the familiar pressure at the base of his spine, and he comes against the back of Joe's throat, Joe milking him for every drop, swallowing everything Nick gives him and mouthing him through the aftershocks. Nick only pushes him off when it becomes too much, drops to the carpet and kicks off his boxers, pushing Joe back and dropping to the vee of his legs.

Joe is so pleased with himself that he doesn't seem to care much when Nick moves without direction and drops his mouth onto Joe's cock without warning. Nick loves this in a way he'd never expected; Joe's dick is a warm and welcome weight on his tongue, salty and familiar at this point, and he feels a swell of pride when he tastes the precome leaking from Joe's slit. _I did this_ , Nick thinks, and he bobs his head down like a professional porn star instead of a 17-year-old boy blowing his brother.

Joe makes a weird, guttural sound, his chest vibrating with the effort, and Nick runs his tongue along the side of Joe's dick, savoring the feel of soft skin and hard arousal. Joe's not going to last long, he knows; they both get off on sucking each other, and Joe's hips are pumping in a staccato rhythm with which Nick's familiar. He drops his hands to Joe's thighs and lets Joe drive his hips upwards, lets Joe fuck into his mouth with a little bit of force, and flattens his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He looks up and sees his brother's eyes, huge and brown and wrecked, and Nick can't keep himself from winking.

"Ohmygod," Joe gets out before he's coming, bitter and salty in Nick's mouth, and Nick takes it, throat working and swallowing his brother's seed like he's dying for it. It started off as a dirty-minded competition, who could give the better blowjob, who could suck harder and longer, and now it's about who can swallow with the most panache. Nick's winning, of course, but he gets the feeling that as long as he's coming in the end, Joe doesn't really care much who's ahead.

Nick rolls off when Joe's hips finally stop pumping, resting his head against Joe's thigh. He feels Joe's strong hands carding through his hair, knows that Joe is twirling his curls between his index finger and his thumb.

"We absolutely rule," Joe breathes, and Nick doesn't know if he's talking about the concert or the sex and frankly, he doesn't care.

He drops a kiss to Joe's thigh, enjoying the shiver that seeps through his brother's body. "Yeah, we do," he replies, and he lets Joe manhandle him into bed, lets Joe press him into the pillow, and finally lets sleep overtake him.

  



End file.
